


turning saints into the sea

by JaguarCello



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Blowjobs, M/M, jealous Robb, nothing more than that forgive me, slutty Theon, the red wedding didn't happen shut up, this is for Nici my sun and stars
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-05
Updated: 2013-06-05
Packaged: 2017-12-14 01:20:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/831048
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JaguarCello/pseuds/JaguarCello
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Sorry about the noise,” Theon told Robb, tracing a pattern in the carpet with his bare foot. “It’s just – well, I was off my head and he was a bit hot and he was flattering and god knows my confidence is as shaky as my hands,” and he held out a hand, the one where the tip of his finger was mangled, and they both watched the slight tremor until Theon chucked a book at his head.</p>
            </blockquote>





	turning saints into the sea

Theon’s eyes were wide, pupils like saucers, and he was laughing with the sort of carefree abandon he used to, before he’d been made to forget how to laugh; Robb had managed to make him smile again, but this sort of laugh could only have come from chemical interference. Theon looked wild, hair shining with sweat and face pale, and the only colour was his lips, red from being bitten and teased by the nameless boy with blue eyes he was dancing with.

 The flash of anger surprised Robb – he’d seen Theon with guys before, obviously, and even with girls when they were still at school, but when Theon’s new friend _licked_ at the sheen of sweat on his neck, for a second he imagined it was him there. He wouldn’t, of course, leer at Theon – but when Theon got this drunk, this high, this far from the quiet boy who had returned from Ramsay Snow, he looked like sex incarnate. There was something in the curve of his lips, the rise and fall of his (ugly) shirt, the way his eyes flashed when he laughed, the way his jeans – sinfully tight – accentuated every curve, and Robb felt a spike of jealousy, a knife twisting in his heart.

 Lust and anger and need curdled in his stomach, and he turned for the door, pulling out his phone to instruct Theon _not to bring that guy back to our house_ _because I have work tomorrow_ and he passed Jeyne Westerling talking to Talisa Maegyr and when they saw him they laughed, because it had been a messy breakup, and he was drunker than he thought, and by the time he’d forced the keys into the lock it was midnight. He dragged himself upstairs, where his dreams twisted into nightmares of Theon being tortured, of Talisa curling her lip at him, of his mother’s face when he’d turned up on the doorstep with Theon, pale and haunted.

 The sound of a second key in the door and muffled cursing woke him up from a dream where Theon screamed and twisted with agony, and it took his sleep-fuddled brain a minute to work out that Theon must have disregarded his text. He sat up, ready to throw the guy out, but then Theon _moaned_ from what sounded like the hall, and muttered “Don’t – don’t stop,” because Theon was terrified of being left alone, even if it was only in the middle of a blowjob, and Robb lay back down, closing his eyes,  imagined it was Theon’s hand on his cock, and as he listened (and tried to persuade himself he wasn’t listening) the two of them must have relocated to Theon’s room, next to Robb’s, and the walls were so thin that he could hear every gasp, every moan, every whispered encouragement. His hand twisted in time with the creaks of the bed and the groans, skimming his length, and he pretended Theon was there with him, cradling him as he stroked -

 Theon was loud when he fucked; he liked to crow his conquest to the heavens, and tonight when he came with a cry, Robb twisted and bit savagely down onto his pillow, to silence his own victory shout, and his hips bucked so much that he worried for a second that Theon would have heard.

 He wiped himself off as best he could, and – sleepy, guilty and still half-drunk – rolled over, and sank into a dreamless sleep.

   The next morning, his alarm must have woken Theon up too, because he yelled through the wall to “Shut that thing _up_ , Stark, for the love of God,” and Robb would have shouted back about Theon being in no position to complain about noise but then Theon’s head appeared round the door. He was still wearing his shirt, but undone, and Robb could see the taut muscles of his stomach, and his hair was wild from the hands that had run through it, and he smelled of sex; a monster roared with lust and jealousy in Robb’s chest.

“Sorry about the noise,” he told Robb, tracing a pattern in the carpet with his bare foot. “It’s just – well, I was off my head and he was a bit hot and he was flattering and god knows my confidence is as shaky as my hands,” and he held out a hand, the one where the tip of his finger was mangled, and they both watched the slight tremor until Theon chucked a book at his head.

“Come on, get up, or your dad will have your head – and probably mine – on a spike –“ and Robb laughed and tried to get up without showing Theon the dirty sheets. Obviously, because Theon could sense his discomfort in a second, he did see, and raised a mocking eyebrow in the old way, so Robb rolled his eyes.

“Is your _friend_ gone?” Robb asked as they went downstairs, and he surprised himself by keeping his voice level. “I mean, I’m guessing you’re not, you know, in love with him or anything,” and Theon snorted a laugh at that. Robb’s heart swelled in his chest at the sound.

 “Oh yeah, didn’t you hear? Or were you –“ and he waggled his eyebrows – “occupied? You know you’ve made the same sex noises since you were about fourteen and even when I’m high I can tell when you’re jerking yourself off,” and Robb pushed his breakfast away. Theon shrugged, and went on. “Like, I always thought you were well, not queer,  and I’m guessing, so did that girl you got stabbed in the back – “

“Hey, that wasn’t my fault –“

 “Either way,” Theon spoke over him, “she hates you now and wants you dead, probably. But there you were, jerking off to the noise of me fucking, and don’t pretend you weren’t because I _know_. Anyway, sometimes I did it when you and Talisa were together. And okay,” and he looked scared  for a second, and he twisted his wrists as if they’d been tied up for a long time. Looking up through his lashes, he half-whispered “even if it’s not true – that you’d fuck me,  I mean – can you let me think it? It’s been a while since someone wanted me – “

He looked down again. “I imagine they’re you. Did you know that? Did you spot the pattern? I mean, that’s what police officers do, right? He had blue eyes and stupid hair and stubble, and so do you. And so did the last one. But they don’t mean anything. It’s, like, representation.” He shrugged, and the lust that had pooled treacherously in Robb’s stomach the night before came flooding back.

 “So – you love – “ Robb tried to speak, but his mind was leaping to grander and grander conclusions, and more and more sex, and a smile that lit up those storm-blue eyes for once, so he just blinked uselessly at Theon.

Theon sniffed, and seemed to shrink in on himself. “The last person who I – well, it wasn’t love, it was fun and games and bondage initially, but yeah. I don’t want to talk about it, you know that. And I’m not – I’m not asking you to do anything you’re not comfortable with – “ The cocky smile that used to adorn his face as he and Robb laughed about leech-like men on posh occasions had gone, replaced by a carefully controlled blankness, but Robb knew him well enough to know that he was scared.

 “I – I won’t deny that I have thought about it. I’ve seen a lot of stuff online and I liked it and I thought about it. Quite a lot, actually, and then seeing you and that guy last night, when you were half-fucking in the club and you had your hands down his trousers and he was looking at you like – well. I’d not realised that it wasn’t just anger that you were high that I’d been feeling for the past few months. It was something different, and I want to test something,” and he stepped closer to Theon. The mask twitched, but Theon forced the grin down and remained impassive.

 “Do you – “ but before Theon could finish the sentence Robb had pressed a swift kiss to the corner of his mouth, as tentatively as he’d dip his toes in the ocean before going in; Theon, who had always jumped from the rocks into the sea, who swam like a fish, kissed him back, pressed against the noticeboard with the final demands from the landlord digging into the back of Robb’s neck.

Theon’s lips were dry, and he tasted of cigarettes and of the orange juice he’d gulped down, and he tangled his fingers in Robb’s hair as if he couldn’t believe he was real. Robb, in turn, had his hands feather-light on the small of his back, as if Theon would bolt at any time. He didn’t, though, and when the pan of water on the hob boiled over Robb looked at the clock.

 “Shit, sorry,” he muttered, shoving his feet into the shoes that were ready by the door, and grabbing his bag and badge.

“You know,” Theon told him, looking at his uniform, “I always liked a police officer,” and Robb rolled his eyes and dashed out the door. He could still taste Theon’s lips like a secret. 

 Work dragged that day. Half the Lannisters – the mafia equivalent, or at least that was what they told their victims – were arrested, but released again with no evidence, and they had reports of a vicious hawk of some kind – “I love my job,” Robb told himself sternly – but when Jon, the animal control officer and his strangely silent half-brother, had arrived, he’d simply rolled his eyes, pointed to the scar that bisected his eyebrow, and muttered something sorting it out; his flame-haired partner had scowled at his vagueness. Jon knew he was thinking about something, and asked him about it doggedly until Robb had given up and admitted that he might be a bit in love with Theon. (Jon, of course, had noticed this about six years before, and clapped him on the back and threatened to tell his mother unless Robb let him tease him about it; Robb agreed.)

He thought of Theon touching himself, listening for the gasps and the moans and the headboard against the wall that Robb was responsible for, and lust stalked through his veins.

 He got home late that night, the shadows lengthening in the streets, and as he struggled with his key  - “We need to get this lock fixed,” Theon had told him every day – the man himself walked up the front path, the last of the sun’s rays painting red into his hair. Robb turned to look at him, and lust spiked through him, and had time to say “Does your key work? Mine’s – “ before the door was unlocked and Theon was kissing him, hard; Robb smiled against his mouth and anchored them together, arms solid around Theon’s waist, and then roaming lower.

 Theon paused, lips as red and swollen as they had been the previous night, and said matter-of-factly “Would you let me blow you?” and Robb’s words fled his brain like skeleton leaves and he nodded, and fumbled for his belt, and leaned back against the wall; his legs felt hollow, and he was embarrassingly hard already, but when Theon tugged his boxers down he only smiled, and Robb closed his eyes and twisted his fingers through Theon’s dark hair.

 “You have to remember,” Theon told him, pulling his lips off with a sound that weakened Robb’s resolve to hear the rest of the sentence, but Theon ran his fingers down the line of dark hair from his navel, and Robb half-whined. “You have to remember that I enjoy this,” and his cheeks were as red as his lips and there was a definite bulge in his trousers that left nothing to the imagination and so Robb leant down to palm him through the thin material of his jeans; Theon bit his own lip, and twisted his fingers on Robb’s cock.

“Not yet,” he warned him, and then looked up again, and his grin was wicked and he licked across the slit and Robb gasped and as his head shot back against the wall, Theon swallowed, and his thumbs were digging into the hollows of Robb’s hipbones and – at last – looked up again, his face messy and his smile wide. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and trailed a hand across Robb’s stomach, heaving with every breath.

 “You liked that,” he said, and Robb just laughed at him.

 “This morning I’d never kissed a guy and here I am being blown by _you_ ,” and Theon looked down at the floor so quickly that Robb regretted being so blasé; he pulled Theon back up to standing, and kissed him – and he could taste himself, and girls usually insisted on using mouthwash, so that was interesting, and should not have turned him on.

 “I mean, the whole friends-shagging thing. Totally cliché,” Theon muttered, but he still looked worried, and Robb reached out to stroke the stubble that dotted his cheeks and shrugged.

 “Or – well, we live together, we sleep two feet away from each other – the wall is a minor detail – and we. I mean, I sort of realised that I love you. But this isn’t going to be a Hallmark moment because I know you hate them, but my whole family thinks we’ve been “telepathically shagging” as Jon put it, for years. And I, well. If that’s anything to go by – “

 Theon laughed, a proper laugh, free from bitterness. “How on earth did you ever get Talisa to agree to shag you if you can’t string a sentence together? But okay Robb Stark, I will be your boyfriend,” and his smile lit up his eyes, and Robb snorted a laugh and kissed him until they were both dizzy.

 “I’m still hard,” Theon reminded him with a grin.

 (Jon, when Robb called him that morning after shower sex, congratulated him and then told him that if he were to share any details, he would phone them in the middle of sex with Ygritte; Robb solemnly agreed.) 

**Author's Note:**

> I'M SO SORRY IT'S LATE but happy birthday uwu


End file.
